


Winter Count

by SilverServerError



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 19:55:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13371960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverServerError/pseuds/SilverServerError
Summary: Wagons crash. It’s normal.





	Winter Count

 

Sloane hissed, gingerly pulling the racing leathers a few inches higher.

“Careful!” Hurley started to shift, reaching out to stop her, but froze at the sharp glare. Part of her wanted to lecture her about rest and recovery after spinning out like that, but it hadn’t worked the last ten times. Why would it work now?

Sloane just grit her teeth, biting down on a swallowed scream as she pulled the pants up over her hips, lacing them tight as she stood. When it was over, she moved with obvious pain, but determination back to her wagon.

Alone on the cot, Hurley pulled the sheets with her as she crossed her legs, curling up against the headboard. She was still in the tank top and underwear she’d had on under during the race. Her own leathers were in a heap at the foot of the bed where she’d tirely shed them hours ago.

“If you’d taken a fall that bad on the force, you wouldn’t be back to work for at least two weeks,” Hurley said, wincing even now. The bruises and scrapes along her left side were blooming dark and angry against warm brown skin. Hurley knew her leg and hip looked exactly the same except worse, and now were under the added stress of leather that didn’t really fit over the swelling.

Sloane didn’t look at her. But she hadn’t kicked her out yet either. Maybe that was progress. When she spoke it was distant. Tired. “We don’t all get days off, Hurley.” She picked up the notebook full of messy handwriting in a language Hurley was only beginning to understand and one of the many pencil stubs that littered her workspace, then braced herself to really look at the damage.

It was…

It was heartbreaking.

Not totaled by any means, but the clean lines had twisted under the stress of impact. One of the back wheels bent off its axis. An entire wing just… gone. It could still be out there, but she was in no condition to go look. It wasn’t like the feathers had been real, but it still sat wrong to think they were probably laying in the dust on the ground somewhere, even symbolically.

She swallowed hard, taking a few notes before forcing herself to keep going.

With a hiss she managed to squat at the side of the wagon, one white knuckled hand gripping the top of the frame to help keep her steady. She frowned as fingertips traced over long scratches that went straight through the counts she’d been keeping over the rear wheel well on the side of the wagon. Wins. Coups. Crashes. None as bad as this one.

She’d have to start over. She’d never bothered to memorize the numbers.

 


End file.
